as snow
was laid
cross the
valley here
and aft-blown
streets still
mashed on
pavements as
the foothills
were now
pipes for
skiing that
just once
I'd see
her snow
angel tonight

Yuka Oiwa Jul 2012

Spring comes
as grasses leap forth
and emerald hues are added to the landscape,
with wildflowers peeking up from the
dewy roadside.
The world smells
fresh like worms and earth,
while birds drift down to finish last year’s
seeds.
Yellow rain boots hop
out of shelves and into the puddles,
while mud gathers and plays in the road,
gurgling with mirth at passers by.
The badminton net is resurrected,
regally looming over the lawn,
as the swings squeak joyfully in the breeze.
The fireplace gives a sooty yawn
and falls to sleep.
And in the kitchen, fiddleheads unfurl upon
a hot pan
as the old and sour scent of the earth
settles upon our plates,
spring steps lightly
onto the world.

~Yuka Oiwa
May 6, 2008

This is an old poem I dug out of my computer's memory. Even though I wrote this in middle school I still really like the imagery little me came up with.

a woman I once knew
that came fly with me
why I've been there
she found 'twas me
in Rutland only she  
pitted & fell in love
yet believed in me
until such a lore
with her bikini  
by the shore
that admire  
rendezvous

A moonlit vacation in Vermont
Case Coniglio Jul 2017

The mist and rain of the foothills solves all ills
Foothills that were once might mountains
Grow older and wiser; yet lie still and wait

© 2017 Case Coniglio
All rights reserved
Case Coniglio Jul 2017

Long has my spirit restlessly waited
For this journey to begin
Quickly I have found this journeys end
Although, I confidently know now
The spark deep within
Burns and glows brightly
For many nights and days to come
Until, restlessness knocks again

© 2017 Case Coniglio
All rights reserved

Final thoughts after completing the Long Trail in Massachusetts.
Ma Cherie May 2017

finally
    a moment
  comes
delicately
to sit
  relaxed
  in quiet
   peace.

I close my eyes
to hear
what is in the silence.

beautiful summer rain
soaking
the trees
an the old metal roof
sings along
with unusual songbirds
this year
creaky aluminum
bends in temperature changes
a door sways
back an forth
gentle rhythms
all together
a benevolent band
wet parachuting droplets
bursting on impact,
a soft howling wind
accompanying
their tune.

my ears hummmm..

with vibrations,

apparently
I only hear
when I listen
so intently to life.

which is something
I need to do more often
to be honest
amongst the utter
chaos an confusion
I am currently in.

contentedness for me
is a destination I seek.

it is then-
it is then when I find my ZEN,
where I can honestly be
I honestly am
appreciative
for even
the pain
that I have felt.

that I've endured.

that I have persevered over.

why?
you might wonder?

I think it is simple-
cumulus clouds provide rain,
rain provides water,
water is life.

I am water,
an therefore
I wish to be.

Mindfulness and meditation so this is something different for me  this type of poetry. it's so lovely here in Vermont. If anyone has a topic about Vermont they want me to write about I will try. Much thanks poets
❤❤❤
Kathryn Gesser Apr 2017

The city is without camouflage.
No men in forest-colored vests
or work boots that track mud
across my heart, little white carpet.

Hunting season begins tonight.
Everyone blends into the mountains,
smelling of autumn leaves and fresh air -
embodied natural sugar.

So pale, like the clouds in my coffee.
We brave the cold to enjoy the thaw,
melting all through August
when the river’s ripe for skinny dipping.

Oh, to fall asleep to the rush, flow, rush
of water someplace
and the tree frogs’ chant.
And both sides of the pillow are always cold.

We seek all things sweet, chill, crisp:
moonshine cherries
passed among friends
like the flu.  

Laugh
and we’ll laugh too
even if we don’t get the joke.
It just feels good.

And! I almost forgot homemade tire swings;
our barefeet on ripped trampolines;
those screen doors our mothers warned us not to slam
and citronella candles on front porch coffee tables;

eating rhubarb pie with plastic forks;
real sticky syrup smiles;
wiping our hands on our jeans;
unafraid to get a little Earth on us.

This is
the soil we came from,
the dirt beneath our fingernails,
the mud across my heart, little white carpet.

Ma Cherie Apr 2017

I can tell you that I am tall,
an I am also not petite,
an some they might say sturdy,
like a tree who has two feet,

An I used to be so thin,
as a stick, I heard em say,
though I won't say I'm too big,
I'm no longer quite that way,

Well I have a little belly,
as some older women do,
I earned it,
what I think,
with my cooking yeah it's true,

So someone might say "chubby"
an I guess OK with that,
I keep an eye on the scale each day,
so I won't end up too fat,
as I sample of my cooking,
to add in this an that,

Sometimes I might wear some makeup
though most days I do not,
especially in the summertime,
when the sun is blazing hot,

I wear my jeans till dirty,
yup more than just few hours,
some say I am a witch,
who's got some kinda powers,
I like the rain a lot you know,
and soaking in warm showers,

I'm not sure that I'm sexy,
my face has many wrinkles,
I like vanilla bean ice cream,
with some yummy chocolate sprinkles,
and some say that I still glow at night,
my eyes they sorta twinkles, ; )

I sip my wine at night to ease,
I work and write by day,
my thoughts come in a rushing breeze,
way more than I can say,

I see the world much differently
than others who are around,
I hear the leaves as they fall dreaming,
an as they hit the sacred ground,
poetry is everyone,
in every lovely sight -an sound

I love my little Tanley cat,
he sits atop my shoulder,
first thing in the morning too,
an each day I'm gettin' older,
I don't take the shit life gives,
cuz I'm a gettin' a lil' bolder,
winters in Vermont are now
much warmer 'stead of colder,

I have an older Subaru,
with lucky all wheel drive,
that thing is like a tank ya know,
it's helped me stay alive,
if you are in the wilderness,
I could help ya to survive,

I cut an split our wood a lot,
but I say the "F" word too,
an I can cook most ANYTHING,
especially a stew!!

Emmmm, emmm yummy!

an I don't have a lot of friends,
but the few I have are true,

If you  really wanna know-
just what I'm really like,
well come up to Vermont -c'mon!
and we'll take a lovely hike,
or take snowmobile out in wintertime,
or catch a real big ugly pike,
or introduce you too my 6'8"
nephew -
who's name is little Mike,

I am so honest- genuine,
I love all people- same,
love is in my heart you see,
to me- it's not a game,
and life is what you make it,
so it's not about the blame,
an I no longer carry anger near,
or not any hidden shame,

I am a very gentle soul,
unless you cross me bad,
and even then I'd likely be,
only maybe sad,
I use my measures often too-
especially the "tad" : )

I think you'd want me in your corner-
I defend mine 'til the death,
an I will speak my certain truth-
until my last an dying breath,

Most days I feel misunderstood,
a curse I bear - alone,
I keep here pretty quite too,
an I like to be at home,

I guess I'm left of center,
NO didn't vote for stupid Trump,
I called him more than maybe twice,
an orange looking angry chump,

I have so many scars,
on my hands from workin hard,
I think I made clean money,
an now I am the bard,

Of a place I love the very most,
where I am my own queen,
and living every day here,
is nothing but a dream,
as I have come to realize,
things are never as they seem,

And we all need to learn,
to be present and to be,
okay with that,
as content is what I seek,

an until I am in total peace,
then I will write,
till the last word that I speak,

turning our truth-
into beautiful poetry.


Ma Cherie © 2017

Idk lol... I am who I am as Popeye would say... don't know if interesting or not? Love you guys hope you're all well this is my voice- I pretty much write it as it comes out. Muah! Xxx
❤❤❤
Kathryn Gesser Mar 2017

I try not to get rooted down
but my love runs deep through these hills
where syrup trickles in the spring down maple bark.
The forest oozes with life
in the rebirth of spring;
where birds nestle in the dark nooks
of my roof and sing through the night;
where green eyes haunt
the graveyard of my bedroom.
I had to leave.

This nostalgia has a bite to it
like a song on the tip
of my tongue like a tobacco leaf I sing
Love me then leave me alone.
It’s not a turn-on.
I just need time for introspection,
self-taught love, oh how the self is caught
trapped in one place too long.

Please
understand this is why we are strange to each other
becoming strangers to each other.
You know my favorite fruit
how I take my coffee.
Heart of a pomegranate, this girl
tempting
hard to break open.
I don’t fall apart for
gentile hands
need to milk and sugar me up
swirl my galaxies
turn me a lighter shade of myself.
Always feeling the same dull grey
of an overcast sky inside
my chest where a bird used to flutter
at the drop of your name.

All that’s left is an empty nest
sky blue eggs with nothing inside.

Ma Cherie Feb 2017

A bubbling goodness,
and some simmering heat,
like the melting of heaven
that just can't be beat,
intoxicating wafts,
so sickeningly sweet,

In swirls of deep Cocoa,
and fresh Vermont cream,
my homemade hot chocolate,
is like sipping a dream,

A warm and delicious place to escape,
come in from the cold of the world,
in a ball on the couch,
where I sit and I sip,
with my cat where he is,
as he's curled,

He's up on my lap,
as I give him a pat,
on his thankful and sweet little head,
and I say that I'm thankful for all
and for our comfy warm little bed,
and I watch it snow - at last,

I listen to music that's alive in this place,
a friendly sweet smile comes to my face,

I say me a thank you,
to whoever will hear,
I hear comfort whispered again in my ear,
and I feel a beautiful moment of peace.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Escape... Ugh lol sorry I've been away with family stuff poets hope you are all well x - Vermont
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